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Only to Sleep
Wealthy dead American. Beautiful young widow. This case has PI Philip Marlowe’s name written all over it. Is it enough to bring him back for one last adventure?
The year is 1988. The place, Baja California. Private Investigator Philip Marlowe – now in his seventy-second year – has been living out his retirement in the terrace bar of the La Fonda hotel. Sipping margaritas, playing cards, his silver-tipped cane at the ready. When in saunter two men dressed like undertakers. With a case that has his name written all over it.
At last Marlowe is back where he belongs. His mission is to investigate Donald Zinn – supposedly drowned off his yacht, leaving a much younger and now very rich wife. Marlowe’s speciality. But is Zinn actually alive? Are the pair living off the spoils?
Set between the border and badlands of Mexico and California, Lawrence Osborne’s resurrection of the iconic Marlowe is an unforgettable addition to the Raymond Chandler canon.
262 pages, Kindle Edition
First published July 24, 2018
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1906 people want to read
About the author
Lawrence Osborne
37 books576 followersLawrence Osborne is the author of seven critically acclaimed novels, including The Forgiven (now a major motion picture starring Ralph Fiennes and Jessica Chastain), and Only to Sleep: A Philip Marlowe Novel, a New York Times Notable Book and nominated for an Edgar Award, as well as six books of nonfiction, including Bangkok Days. He has led a nomadic life, living in Paris, New York, Mexico, and Istanbul, and he currently resides in Bangkok.
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August 12, 2018
With what is now an exceedingly common practice in the publishing world, Lawrence Osborne revives the hard boiled noir series featuring the unforgettable Philip Marlowe, albeit his own version of Marlowe. Set in the coastal areas of California and Mexico, locations that serve well for the underhand dealings, shady characters, con merchants, and as Marlowe terms it, the 'able grables', all requisite requirements for a Philip Marlowe outing. Osborne does a particularly good job in making these places come alive, his rich descriptions evoking oodles of atmosphere and the overpowering heat. There are bars with generators that invite customers to experience electric shocks for a free Mescal, an offer Marlowe can never resist, convinced the shocks have health giving properties for him. It is 1988, Reagan's presidential term is over, and a 72 year old retired Marlowe living in California receives a visit from two men from the Pacific Mutual Insurance Company. They are paying out a huge sum to the widow of Donald Zinn, Dolores Araya. Zinn's body was recovered on a beach in Mexico, identified by Dolores, and rather too quickly cremated. The insurance people have no reason to think fraud has been perpetrated, all the paperwork is in order. But something feels not quite right and fluent Spanish speaker Marlowe is the man they want to look into it, and they are willing to pay.
Marlowe is bored, and despite his age and the frailties associated with it, he wants in, he wants that last adventure. He may be a shadow of his former self physically, and he certainly bemoans and resents the fact he is no longer in a position to do anything about the beautiful women that catch his eye, but he has his trusty cane, which harbours a deadly weapon should he need it, which is just as well because his survival will depend on it. Donald Zinn turns out to be con man, a chancer, whose entire wealth as a real estate developer is built on a mountain of debt that his death has rather neatly resolved, whilst leaving Dolores a wealthy woman as she cashes in on their assets. Zinn was a cokehead, living the good life of yachting, fishing, drinking and women, but a man with a crazy and nasty side to him. The beautiful Dolores Araya turns out to be a far more complex woman that Marlowe first thinks in this twisted last case for Marlowe, and he certainly has his own way of resolving the issues that arise, after all, he feels no particular loyalty to the insurance company.
This was an enjoyable resurrection of the elderly, yet still iconic Philip Marlowe by Lawrence Osborne, who certainly captures elements of Marlowe in this novel. The spirit of Marlowe, still wanting to live the vibrant and adventurous life, even if it is without the dames, to once again have a case, even though the years have robbed him of much of his physical capabilities, is wonderfully conveyed. Marlowe is not afraid to die, and if he does, he will have died doing what he loves and does best, and who can argue with that? What I particularly liked was the strong sense of location and the wide range of characters that inhabit the pages of this gripping book. Many thanks to Random House Vintage for an ARC.
Marlowe is bored, and despite his age and the frailties associated with it, he wants in, he wants that last adventure. He may be a shadow of his former self physically, and he certainly bemoans and resents the fact he is no longer in a position to do anything about the beautiful women that catch his eye, but he has his trusty cane, which harbours a deadly weapon should he need it, which is just as well because his survival will depend on it. Donald Zinn turns out to be con man, a chancer, whose entire wealth as a real estate developer is built on a mountain of debt that his death has rather neatly resolved, whilst leaving Dolores a wealthy woman as she cashes in on their assets. Zinn was a cokehead, living the good life of yachting, fishing, drinking and women, but a man with a crazy and nasty side to him. The beautiful Dolores Araya turns out to be a far more complex woman that Marlowe first thinks in this twisted last case for Marlowe, and he certainly has his own way of resolving the issues that arise, after all, he feels no particular loyalty to the insurance company.
This was an enjoyable resurrection of the elderly, yet still iconic Philip Marlowe by Lawrence Osborne, who certainly captures elements of Marlowe in this novel. The spirit of Marlowe, still wanting to live the vibrant and adventurous life, even if it is without the dames, to once again have a case, even though the years have robbed him of much of his physical capabilities, is wonderfully conveyed. Marlowe is not afraid to die, and if he does, he will have died doing what he loves and does best, and who can argue with that? What I particularly liked was the strong sense of location and the wide range of characters that inhabit the pages of this gripping book. Many thanks to Random House Vintage for an ARC.
July 16, 2018
2017 was the year I discovered Lawrence Osborne and my reading choices were summarily upended. By the end of the year, I had read 4 of his books – 2 fiction and 2 non-fiction – and, so far, in 2018, I’ve read 2 more. I’m purposefully leaving several back-catalog options available lest I sink helplessly into a deep funk when there are no more Osborne works left unread. (The foregoing disclosure is far more significant for purposes of assessing my objectivity (none) than knowing that I received a digital copy for review.)
That aside, while I’m a determinedly eclectic reader, my fondness for detective, crime, mystery and thriller novels becomes apparent with a cursory glance at my GoodReads shelves. Add to that a preference for novels where most of the action takes place outside of the US and you see that I brought to Only to Sleep a fangirl’s high anticipation. What I did not bring to my reading of this novel was any set of expectations for the details of how Osborne would deliver against the opportunity he and John Banville, separately, received from the Raymond Chandler estate: to write a new Philip Marlowe novel. He includes an Author’s Note at the end that die-hard Chandler fans might want to peruse first. His core message? “I have tried to stay within the bounds of Marlowe’s fictional biography.”
That he does.
At the start of Only to Sleep, Philip Marlowe is 72 and retired. Hanging at a hotel bar. Needs a cane for navigation. A healthy, wealthy man has drowned. His widow is lovely and quite prompt in filing a claim on his life insurance policy. The insurer engages Marlowe to investigate the claim. Marlowe takes the case and begins to do what he does best, first in Baja, but mostly in Mexico. And Osborne is off to the races, as it were, giving us sentences like these:
"Through my sleep moved old monsters and charlatans. The old men beaten in alleyways decades ago, the women resigned to their twilights."
The plot is as opaque as the plots of the two Chandler novels I’ve read. Murky characters abound. The widow is only one of them. Marlowe is first intrigued, then determined, to get to the bottom of the mystery of the insured’s demise, but not necessarily in the way his client anticipated. Lots of traveling, hotels, adult beverages, dreams, darkness, bad guys, lies and misdirections. Osborne worked as a reporter on the US-Mexican border earlier in his career and brings those memories of the terrain and culture to the table here.
Mostly, though? Read Only to Sleep for Osborne’s writing.
“After they had left and as soon as the first stars had come out, a tolling bell began to echo from the hillsides above, and I let myself drift from the present backward in time. The sea became quiet. My cane rested between my legs almost like a companion dog while my real dog was off hunting chimera. The lights of the lobster boats came on, and I took my solitary tequila straight up.”
That aside, while I’m a determinedly eclectic reader, my fondness for detective, crime, mystery and thriller novels becomes apparent with a cursory glance at my GoodReads shelves. Add to that a preference for novels where most of the action takes place outside of the US and you see that I brought to Only to Sleep a fangirl’s high anticipation. What I did not bring to my reading of this novel was any set of expectations for the details of how Osborne would deliver against the opportunity he and John Banville, separately, received from the Raymond Chandler estate: to write a new Philip Marlowe novel. He includes an Author’s Note at the end that die-hard Chandler fans might want to peruse first. His core message? “I have tried to stay within the bounds of Marlowe’s fictional biography.”
That he does.
At the start of Only to Sleep, Philip Marlowe is 72 and retired. Hanging at a hotel bar. Needs a cane for navigation. A healthy, wealthy man has drowned. His widow is lovely and quite prompt in filing a claim on his life insurance policy. The insurer engages Marlowe to investigate the claim. Marlowe takes the case and begins to do what he does best, first in Baja, but mostly in Mexico. And Osborne is off to the races, as it were, giving us sentences like these:
"Through my sleep moved old monsters and charlatans. The old men beaten in alleyways decades ago, the women resigned to their twilights."
The plot is as opaque as the plots of the two Chandler novels I’ve read. Murky characters abound. The widow is only one of them. Marlowe is first intrigued, then determined, to get to the bottom of the mystery of the insured’s demise, but not necessarily in the way his client anticipated. Lots of traveling, hotels, adult beverages, dreams, darkness, bad guys, lies and misdirections. Osborne worked as a reporter on the US-Mexican border earlier in his career and brings those memories of the terrain and culture to the table here.
Mostly, though? Read Only to Sleep for Osborne’s writing.
“After they had left and as soon as the first stars had come out, a tolling bell began to echo from the hillsides above, and I let myself drift from the present backward in time. The sea became quiet. My cane rested between my legs almost like a companion dog while my real dog was off hunting chimera. The lights of the lobster boats came on, and I took my solitary tequila straight up.”
August 24, 2018
“Only to Sleep: A Philip Marlowe Novel” written by Lawrence Osborne, is to the best of my knowledge, the third authorized Philip Marlowe to be written since the death of Raymond Chandler on 26 March 1959 in La Jolia Ca. with the blessing of the Chandler estate. And I say that it is lucky number three.
Of the two previous attempts, which were written by two earlier mystery authors, it was asked when John Banville, was writing under his mystery novel pseudonym Benjamin Black, would he be able to pull it off or would it be like a Robert B Parker fiasco (first author attempt)? Parker was memorably dismissed by Martin Amis for having turned Marlowe, that hard-boiled walker of lonely streets, into an "affable goon". As Amis wrote on 27 January 1991, “If Raymond Chandler had written like Robert B. Parker, he wouldn't have been Raymond Chandler. He would have been Robert B. Parker, a rather less exalted presence. The posthumous pseudo-sequel never amounts to more than a nostalgic curiosity, and it is no great surprise that "Perchance to Dream" isn't much good.” But Banville lets us know from the very start of “The Black-Eyed Blonde” that we are in the safest of hands here. After all, it was the twenty third novel written by Bainville (his first and only Marlowe).
Now we have the new guy, at least new to me, Lawrence Osborne, taking a stab at Chandler’s legendary PI. The story takes place in 1988. Marlowe has retired and has been living in Baja California for the last ten years. He is seventy two years old. Then one day, two men, representatives of the ‘Pacific Mutual insurance company’, call on Marlowe wishing to hire him to look into the death of a real-estate mogul so their exposure of his policy payout can be reduced. The mogul, a man named Donald Zinn, reportedly had died in Mexico while swimming.
To his credit Mr. Osborne has captured the ‘flavor’ of Chandler’s writing. It’s not Chandler but so reminiscent of Chandler one can hear the metaphors. In my opinion this book was fantastic, perhaps one of the best I have read this year. To his credit Osborne has been able to pull it off without a hitch. The setting, the times, the location and the atmosphere were spot on perfect.
Highly recommended to lovers of a good mystery.
Of the two previous attempts, which were written by two earlier mystery authors, it was asked when John Banville, was writing under his mystery novel pseudonym Benjamin Black, would he be able to pull it off or would it be like a Robert B Parker fiasco (first author attempt)? Parker was memorably dismissed by Martin Amis for having turned Marlowe, that hard-boiled walker of lonely streets, into an "affable goon". As Amis wrote on 27 January 1991, “If Raymond Chandler had written like Robert B. Parker, he wouldn't have been Raymond Chandler. He would have been Robert B. Parker, a rather less exalted presence. The posthumous pseudo-sequel never amounts to more than a nostalgic curiosity, and it is no great surprise that "Perchance to Dream" isn't much good.” But Banville lets us know from the very start of “The Black-Eyed Blonde” that we are in the safest of hands here. After all, it was the twenty third novel written by Bainville (his first and only Marlowe).
Now we have the new guy, at least new to me, Lawrence Osborne, taking a stab at Chandler’s legendary PI. The story takes place in 1988. Marlowe has retired and has been living in Baja California for the last ten years. He is seventy two years old. Then one day, two men, representatives of the ‘Pacific Mutual insurance company’, call on Marlowe wishing to hire him to look into the death of a real-estate mogul so their exposure of his policy payout can be reduced. The mogul, a man named Donald Zinn, reportedly had died in Mexico while swimming.
To his credit Mr. Osborne has captured the ‘flavor’ of Chandler’s writing. It’s not Chandler but so reminiscent of Chandler one can hear the metaphors. In my opinion this book was fantastic, perhaps one of the best I have read this year. To his credit Osborne has been able to pull it off without a hitch. The setting, the times, the location and the atmosphere were spot on perfect.
Highly recommended to lovers of a good mystery.
October 27, 2025
A book like this should start out with a quote:
I have only read one Raymond Chandler book; The Lady in the Lake failed to impress. Chandler’s estate came to Osborne and asked if he’d be willing to write a book starring Philip Marlowe, and the Marlowe ouvre is richer for it. I loved this book.
We spend most of our time in 1988 Mexico, with the narrator moaning about how much nicer it had been thirty years earlier. He’s lucky he hasn’t seen what the subsequent thirty-five years have done. My go-to spot there is Guanajuato, a silver-mining city from the 1600’s that retains both its Middle Ages aspect as well as those specific quirks that make a place feel so Mexican and so inviting. And sure enough, Marlowe and his quarry wind up there as well.
Chandler's characters could use a little freshening up. Guanajuato's Museo de las Momias
But forget the plot; the strength of this book is the writing. Osborne is peerless in describing dissolution and regret, both of which feature heavily here. I was hesitant to read this, because I didn’t want to read him forced into another author’s style, but he pulls this off with effortless glory. It felt just like each of his other novels I’ve read, but with a slightly faster pace befitting a classic private eye story. Not too fast, though; Marlowe is not the tough guy of old, but a gray and dried-up old man in his late seventies, limping around with his cane and his memories.
And nearly every page offers something quotable, such as a man’s hairstyle: “He had it finely spun like gossamer at a salon in town and then dyed to the color of an eggplant after a fair amount of stir frying.” Finally, there’s the final sentence, which made my little heart shake violently until it exploded. I wish he hadn’t weakened it by tacking on an epilogue, but that may have been his only mistake.
May you watch the bodies of your enemies float past you on the river.No? I think you’re right. It’s a nice sentiment, but not really reflective of this story’s tone. It sounds like something Raymond Chandler might have written, but this isn’t his book. Howzabout:
”You have your honor. Luckily Donald and I don’t have any such hindrance.”Getting closer. But I think I’m going to go with
Count me as one of those who knows that life is unbearable not because it’s tragedy but because it’s a romance.Yeah. Lawrence Osborne, my literary hero of 2025, wrote that line but I feel Chandler would have approved.
I have only read one Raymond Chandler book; The Lady in the Lake failed to impress. Chandler’s estate came to Osborne and asked if he’d be willing to write a book starring Philip Marlowe, and the Marlowe ouvre is richer for it. I loved this book.
We spend most of our time in 1988 Mexico, with the narrator moaning about how much nicer it had been thirty years earlier. He’s lucky he hasn’t seen what the subsequent thirty-five years have done. My go-to spot there is Guanajuato, a silver-mining city from the 1600’s that retains both its Middle Ages aspect as well as those specific quirks that make a place feel so Mexican and so inviting. And sure enough, Marlowe and his quarry wind up there as well.
Chandler's characters could use a little freshening up. Guanajuato's Museo de las Momias
But forget the plot; the strength of this book is the writing. Osborne is peerless in describing dissolution and regret, both of which feature heavily here. I was hesitant to read this, because I didn’t want to read him forced into another author’s style, but he pulls this off with effortless glory. It felt just like each of his other novels I’ve read, but with a slightly faster pace befitting a classic private eye story. Not too fast, though; Marlowe is not the tough guy of old, but a gray and dried-up old man in his late seventies, limping around with his cane and his memories.
And nearly every page offers something quotable, such as a man’s hairstyle: “He had it finely spun like gossamer at a salon in town and then dyed to the color of an eggplant after a fair amount of stir frying.” Finally, there’s the final sentence, which made my little heart shake violently until it exploded. I wish he hadn’t weakened it by tacking on an epilogue, but that may have been his only mistake.
April 19, 2018
Chandler’s Marlowe is a towering figure in the lore of hardboiled gumshoes. He is so important to the literary genre that he stands nearly seventy feet tall and when he speaks the earth quivers. For such a towering figure, Chandler only bequeathed us seven full novels and a fistful of short stories. More recently, a host of writers have attempted to add to the Philip Marlowe lore, paying homage to Chandler’s work.
Osborne offers us, not another story set in the mean streets of Marlowe’s 1940’s Los Angeles, but an elder statesman Philip Marlowe. It’s the late 1980’s and this Marlowe is an old man with a cane, not as quick with his step. Here, Marlowe has retired to a village near Ensenada, drinking and idling away his golden years. Reluctantly, he accepts a final case, a final chance to do what he does best -investigate and figure it out. A young widow has claimed an insurance policy after her older husband’s body washes up on the beach in Mexico. And, here’s the elderly Marlowe plodding doggedly through Mexico trying to make sense of the little things he finds.
What Osborne captures in this book is the spirit of windswept sadness and melancholy as he recalls his glorious past and investigates. It’s a Mexico filled with dry desert roads, quiet resorts, and lost dreams. For me, this book may have held initial appeal as a Marlowe story, but with very little actual action sequences, it offers a rather fascinating story that was quite an enjoyable read. Indeed, it’s a story that stands up in its own - even if the main character didn’t share a name and a background with a famous literary character.
Thanks to Crown Publishing for providing a copy for review.
Osborne offers us, not another story set in the mean streets of Marlowe’s 1940’s Los Angeles, but an elder statesman Philip Marlowe. It’s the late 1980’s and this Marlowe is an old man with a cane, not as quick with his step. Here, Marlowe has retired to a village near Ensenada, drinking and idling away his golden years. Reluctantly, he accepts a final case, a final chance to do what he does best -investigate and figure it out. A young widow has claimed an insurance policy after her older husband’s body washes up on the beach in Mexico. And, here’s the elderly Marlowe plodding doggedly through Mexico trying to make sense of the little things he finds.
What Osborne captures in this book is the spirit of windswept sadness and melancholy as he recalls his glorious past and investigates. It’s a Mexico filled with dry desert roads, quiet resorts, and lost dreams. For me, this book may have held initial appeal as a Marlowe story, but with very little actual action sequences, it offers a rather fascinating story that was quite an enjoyable read. Indeed, it’s a story that stands up in its own - even if the main character didn’t share a name and a background with a famous literary character.
Thanks to Crown Publishing for providing a copy for review.
June 30, 2018
"Carnivals were where old man could shine a little behind their masks and pretend that their vital spirits still worked." In 1989, Philip Marlowe is now 72, retired, living in Baja and contemplating the ways things have changed, not for the better, from the 1950s. He has a bad leg and is not particularly robust, but when he is approached by a couple of insurance investigators he agrees to take on one last case.
Donald Zinn drowned in Mexico, making his much younger widow, Dolores Araya, very wealthy. The investigators think that the details of Zinn's death may have been falsified and they want to know the truth. Marlowe may not have been their best choice for this mission.
I've read several of the author's books and he is very good at both setting an atmosphere and creating morally ambiguous plots and characters, and he has accomplished that in this book. Marlowe winds up traveling through the out of the way places in Mexico that lure Americans who want to play and/or lose themselves.
This book is a continuation of the Philip Marlowe series, acommissioned by the estate of Raymond Chandler. It's not necessary to have read any of the prior books. I wasn't looking forward to reading about old Marlowe. Mostly I just blocked out my memories of his younger self and treated this protagonist as a new character. That worked for me.
I received a free copy of this book from the publisher.
Donald Zinn drowned in Mexico, making his much younger widow, Dolores Araya, very wealthy. The investigators think that the details of Zinn's death may have been falsified and they want to know the truth. Marlowe may not have been their best choice for this mission.
I've read several of the author's books and he is very good at both setting an atmosphere and creating morally ambiguous plots and characters, and he has accomplished that in this book. Marlowe winds up traveling through the out of the way places in Mexico that lure Americans who want to play and/or lose themselves.
This book is a continuation of the Philip Marlowe series, acommissioned by the estate of Raymond Chandler. It's not necessary to have read any of the prior books. I wasn't looking forward to reading about old Marlowe. Mostly I just blocked out my memories of his younger self and treated this protagonist as a new character. That worked for me.
I received a free copy of this book from the publisher.
September 9, 2018
The year is 1989., the Reagan presidency had just come to an end, and Detective Philip Marlowe is on the case again.
Philip Marlowe has retired and is living in Baja. He thinks about the way things have changed (not for the better). He has a bad leg but when he is approached from a couple of insurance investigators, he decides to take on one last case.
Donald Zinn had drowned in Mexico, leaving his widow Dolores Araya a wealthy woman. Thinking that the details of Donald Zinn's deathhad been falsified, Marlowe may not have been the best person for this case.
This is the first book I have read by this author. In this book, Marlowe, is 72 and a bit more cynical. He's not in his usual L. A. ! he's retired to Baja. He has taken on his swan song case. The descriptions in this book make you feel that you are taking part in this story. The pace is steady, it's well written and it's quite an enjoyable read.
I would like to thank NetGalley, Random House UK, Vintage Publishing and the author Lawrence Osborne for my ARC in exchange for an honest review.
Philip Marlowe has retired and is living in Baja. He thinks about the way things have changed (not for the better). He has a bad leg but when he is approached from a couple of insurance investigators, he decides to take on one last case.
Donald Zinn had drowned in Mexico, leaving his widow Dolores Araya a wealthy woman. Thinking that the details of Donald Zinn's deathhad been falsified, Marlowe may not have been the best person for this case.
This is the first book I have read by this author. In this book, Marlowe, is 72 and a bit more cynical. He's not in his usual L. A. ! he's retired to Baja. He has taken on his swan song case. The descriptions in this book make you feel that you are taking part in this story. The pace is steady, it's well written and it's quite an enjoyable read.
I would like to thank NetGalley, Random House UK, Vintage Publishing and the author Lawrence Osborne for my ARC in exchange for an honest review.
September 4, 2018
I’m afraid I found Only To Sleep pretty dull and rather aptly titled for me. As a lover of Chandler’s originals I approached it with some scepticism, especially after John Banville’s The Black-Eyed Blonde, which I thought was a pretty dreadful pastiche of Chandler’s style. This was stylistically better, but really didn’t add up to much.
It’s a good idea in many ways to set the book in 1988, when Marlowe is 74 years old; his narrative voice is calmer, less snappy and the wisecracks and brilliant similes almost absent. It’s reasonably plausible from an older Marlowe and avoids having to try to imitate the inimitable originals. The trouble is, it’s not very interesting. The plot, such as it is, revolves around a dodgy death in Mexico, to where Marlowe has now retired. He is persuaded to look into the matter by an insurance company who aren’t happy about the claim and then...not very much happens. I remember an old Private Eye parody of one of the le Carré TV adaptations along the lines of:
Lengthy shot of Smiley walking slowly up a lane to the door of a house.
Smiley knocks.
Long pause.
Window opens upstairs and a woman’s face appears.
Smiley: “My name is Smiley. George Smiley.”
Pause.
Woman: “Go away!”
Window slams. Long close-up of Smileys thoughtful face. Eventually he turns away.
Lengthy shot of Smiley’s back as he walks slowly away from the house.
Repeat for four following scenes.
Well, I got rather that feeling with Only To Sleep. Marlowe talks to a lot of people whom we don’t know in unfamiliar places so it’s all rather hard to keep track of. A very slow picture of the dead man emerges. Slowly. And so on. Without Chandler’s matchless prose, human insight and wit to underpin it, the whole thing became dull to me and I began to skip, without feeling I was missing much.
This isn’t the mess that The Black-Eyed Blonde was, but it’s not a significant addition to the Marlowe canon either. I can’t really recommend it.
(My thanks to Vintage Digital for an ARC via NetGalley.)
It’s a good idea in many ways to set the book in 1988, when Marlowe is 74 years old; his narrative voice is calmer, less snappy and the wisecracks and brilliant similes almost absent. It’s reasonably plausible from an older Marlowe and avoids having to try to imitate the inimitable originals. The trouble is, it’s not very interesting. The plot, such as it is, revolves around a dodgy death in Mexico, to where Marlowe has now retired. He is persuaded to look into the matter by an insurance company who aren’t happy about the claim and then...not very much happens. I remember an old Private Eye parody of one of the le Carré TV adaptations along the lines of:
Lengthy shot of Smiley walking slowly up a lane to the door of a house.
Smiley knocks.
Long pause.
Window opens upstairs and a woman’s face appears.
Smiley: “My name is Smiley. George Smiley.”
Pause.
Woman: “Go away!”
Window slams. Long close-up of Smileys thoughtful face. Eventually he turns away.
Lengthy shot of Smiley’s back as he walks slowly away from the house.
Repeat for four following scenes.
Well, I got rather that feeling with Only To Sleep. Marlowe talks to a lot of people whom we don’t know in unfamiliar places so it’s all rather hard to keep track of. A very slow picture of the dead man emerges. Slowly. And so on. Without Chandler’s matchless prose, human insight and wit to underpin it, the whole thing became dull to me and I began to skip, without feeling I was missing much.
This isn’t the mess that The Black-Eyed Blonde was, but it’s not a significant addition to the Marlowe canon either. I can’t really recommend it.
(My thanks to Vintage Digital for an ARC via NetGalley.)
July 11, 2018
At 72 years of age, Philip Marlowe has retired. But when he’s offered a case by an insurance company, he decides to have one last adventure. They want Marlowe to investigate the death of Donald Zinn. They’ve paid Zinn’s widow a very large sum of money but something doesn’t seem right and they think Marlowe is the man to get to the bottom of it.
Who doesn’t know and love Philip Marlowe? What a perfect delight to have an author such as Lawrence Osborne bring him to life once again. The Robert Chandler Estate asked Mr. Osborne to write this book and they couldn’t have picked a better author to do the job. Osborne has done a wonderful job of creating an older Marlowe. And he has done an excellent job of depicting a man who has led an adventurous life but now is headed to a more sedentary life and all of the conflicting emotions that go along with that. So enjoyable to once again join Marlowe as he takes on his last investigation.
This is a bit different from Mr. Osborne’s other books in that he adapts the Chandler style of telling this story. But his particular talents still shine through. He’s lived in many countries and has quite a knack for detailing each location that he brings his characters to. Most of this book takes place in different locations in Mexico and the author brings his readers right there with him. With all the sights and smells and colors, you’ll completely forget that you’re not actually there. I do hope that one day Mr. Osborne will once again bring Mr. Marlowe out of retirement for another adventure.
Recommended.
This book was given to me by the publisher in return for an honest review.
Who doesn’t know and love Philip Marlowe? What a perfect delight to have an author such as Lawrence Osborne bring him to life once again. The Robert Chandler Estate asked Mr. Osborne to write this book and they couldn’t have picked a better author to do the job. Osborne has done a wonderful job of creating an older Marlowe. And he has done an excellent job of depicting a man who has led an adventurous life but now is headed to a more sedentary life and all of the conflicting emotions that go along with that. So enjoyable to once again join Marlowe as he takes on his last investigation.
This is a bit different from Mr. Osborne’s other books in that he adapts the Chandler style of telling this story. But his particular talents still shine through. He’s lived in many countries and has quite a knack for detailing each location that he brings his characters to. Most of this book takes place in different locations in Mexico and the author brings his readers right there with him. With all the sights and smells and colors, you’ll completely forget that you’re not actually there. I do hope that one day Mr. Osborne will once again bring Mr. Marlowe out of retirement for another adventure.
Recommended.
This book was given to me by the publisher in return for an honest review.
September 1, 2018
Only To Sleep is a novel featuring private investigator Philip Marlow by Lawrence Obsorne.
I really had a difficult time rating this book because on one hand, if it had resonated with this reader more, the rating would have been higher, but for some reason, this novel just did not do that.
Obsorne tells a tale where Marlow is on his elderly last legs working one more case and seeking to determine if a man has faked his death or not in order to collect on a large insurance settlement.
The novel is rich with descriptions and poignancy when it comes to Marlow, his age and his twilight years. Throughout the novel, and it does not offer a spoiler to tell this, Marlow knows this is probably his last investigation and maybe even one he should not have taken in the first place.
The novel reads as a last hurrah for the Marlow character as he ponders his past, the things he had done and how sunset is just around the corner on his life.
I believe many readers will really enjoy this novel a great deal and hope my three-star rating does not dissuade others from reading this novel.
I really had a difficult time rating this book because on one hand, if it had resonated with this reader more, the rating would have been higher, but for some reason, this novel just did not do that.
Obsorne tells a tale where Marlow is on his elderly last legs working one more case and seeking to determine if a man has faked his death or not in order to collect on a large insurance settlement.
The novel is rich with descriptions and poignancy when it comes to Marlow, his age and his twilight years. Throughout the novel, and it does not offer a spoiler to tell this, Marlow knows this is probably his last investigation and maybe even one he should not have taken in the first place.
The novel reads as a last hurrah for the Marlow character as he ponders his past, the things he had done and how sunset is just around the corner on his life.
I believe many readers will really enjoy this novel a great deal and hope my three-star rating does not dissuade others from reading this novel.
August 10, 2018
Lawrence Osborne is the third author who got asked by the Chandler estate to add to the the Philip Marlowe book, earlier entries being two books by Robert B Parker and John Banville. Which is certainly not a list of poor writers.
Osborne chose to place the Philip Marlowe in the year 1988 with the lovely idea of having Marlowe being 72 years old, which makes a tough detective who can manage with his fists what his wits can not conquer.
This is an older retired Marlowe who lives in Baja Mexico and is winding down. He gets a request by an insurance company to investigate the death of man whose debtors were many. So Marlowe decides that he wants to chose his own curtain and shows that his skills as a PI are still as sharp as ever before. He does find out that death of the victim was faked and he keeps tracking them even if they want him dead and actually try as well.
An absolute excellent entry in the Marlowe book series that does bring a great story that actually makes more sense than some of of Chandlers stories. I would gladly advise anybody who likes the Noir books to read this particular entry.
Osborne chose to place the Philip Marlowe in the year 1988 with the lovely idea of having Marlowe being 72 years old, which makes a tough detective who can manage with his fists what his wits can not conquer.
This is an older retired Marlowe who lives in Baja Mexico and is winding down. He gets a request by an insurance company to investigate the death of man whose debtors were many. So Marlowe decides that he wants to chose his own curtain and shows that his skills as a PI are still as sharp as ever before. He does find out that death of the victim was faked and he keeps tracking them even if they want him dead and actually try as well.
An absolute excellent entry in the Marlowe book series that does bring a great story that actually makes more sense than some of of Chandlers stories. I would gladly advise anybody who likes the Noir books to read this particular entry.
April 26, 2020
A wonderful coda to the journey of Philip Marlowe, perhaps the most iconic hardboiled detective in all of fiction. Set amid the desolate, sleepy remnants of the Mexico of old, the story is wistful and often languid, reflecting an already retired Marlowe called back to the game for one last time.
Without question, Osborne succeeds in finding Marlowe's voice in a way that rings true and I think fits remarkably well into Chandler's legacy. Certainly his prose and style don't match Chandler at this best, whose does, but it's exceedingly good in its own right.
While I enjoyed Poodle Springs, the last Marlowe novel only briefly started by Chandler and finished many years later by Robert B. Parker, I found this more of an authentic Marlowe experience. The plot more nuanced, sophisticated and ultimately more gratifying. Highly recommended to Chandler fans!
Without question, Osborne succeeds in finding Marlowe's voice in a way that rings true and I think fits remarkably well into Chandler's legacy. Certainly his prose and style don't match Chandler at this best, whose does, but it's exceedingly good in its own right.
While I enjoyed Poodle Springs, the last Marlowe novel only briefly started by Chandler and finished many years later by Robert B. Parker, I found this more of an authentic Marlowe experience. The plot more nuanced, sophisticated and ultimately more gratifying. Highly recommended to Chandler fans!
February 23, 2019
I have not read a Chandler novel of detective Philip Marlowe and his hardboiled noir escapades of hustlers, femme fatales, the darker side of LA, and booze, lots of booze. I did see The Big Sleep years ago, and am familiar with some of Marlowe’s famous one-liners and cases through literary allusions and literature culture in general. But, being a fan of Lawrence Osborne, I decided to read this, knowing I wouldn’t have too many pre-conceived notions (if any) on how Marlowe’s character and actions should be executed. I wouldn’t be distracted by comparisons. So, if you’re looking for a reviewer that compares the two novelists, you’ve come to the wrong review. But I thought this book was solid and entertaining, and covered well the theme of decency, honor, aging and alienation.
The setting here is 1988, and Marlowe is 72, retired, and living alone in a house on a Mexican beach on the Baja California Peninsula, sipping margaritas at a hotel he frequents. In come two insurance gentlemen dressed like undertakers, urging Marlowe out of retirement for one last case that will take him to the badlands and border between Mexico and California. The gist if the case is that a debt-ridden man Marlowe’s own age, Donald Zinn, has washed up on the beach dead, and his insurance policy obligated a two-million dollar payout to the lovely wife, half his age. Moreover, Zinn’s body was immediately cremated, no minutes to spare. The insurance agents want Philip to investigate whether there was something fishy in this death and the policy.
Does Marlowe want to do this? His days of fistfights and gun-slinging are over. He relies on a silver-tipped cane—which hides a deadly Japanese blade—to limp around. He’s truly vulnerable physically, but also mentally nostalgic. “You have your books and your movies, your daydreams and your moments in the sun, but none of these can save you any more than irony can.” So, he’s talked out of retirement for one last case.
And the plot is mostly credible, in what is likely a Chandler-esque way. Sure, some bodies pile up and—okay, it is periodically larger than life. Could an elderly alcoholic really rough it this way and sustain this kind of stress? Probably not, but the cerebral and intellectual sovereignty of Marlowe sucked me in pretty quick, despite its slow start, and had me believing in his character and his gumshoe tactics. And, of course, there is a dame, isn’t there always a dame in a detective noir of the Marlowe variety? But, it isn’t like you may think. As Clint Eastwood once said, a man’s gotta know his limitations, and Marlowe knows his constraints.
The book isn’t a quick page-turner by any means, and it takes a while to get off the ground, but Osborne knows his settings, and two of the reasons I chose this book is his impeccable us of setting and atmosphere. And his tone is laconic but sympathetic. “You can be called to a last effort, a final heroic statement, because I doubt you call yourself to leave comforts and certainties for an open road. But the call is inside your own head. It’s a sad summons from the depths of your own wasted past. You could call it the imperative to go out with full-tilt trumpets and gunshots instead of the quietly desperate sound of a hospital ventilator.”
The plot itself didn’t win me over as much as Osborne’s writing. If you crave a fast-paced plot, this isn’t that novel—it does have twists and turns, and as Osborne wrote in his author’s note at the end, the narrative incarnates qualities of fairy tale and nightmare. He reckons with aging more than once, and in his poignant and wistful voice, reflects on his old age. “Count me as one of those who know that life is unbearable not because it’s tragedy but because it’s romance. Old age only makes it worse, because now the race against time has reached the hour of high noon.”
The setting here is 1988, and Marlowe is 72, retired, and living alone in a house on a Mexican beach on the Baja California Peninsula, sipping margaritas at a hotel he frequents. In come two insurance gentlemen dressed like undertakers, urging Marlowe out of retirement for one last case that will take him to the badlands and border between Mexico and California. The gist if the case is that a debt-ridden man Marlowe’s own age, Donald Zinn, has washed up on the beach dead, and his insurance policy obligated a two-million dollar payout to the lovely wife, half his age. Moreover, Zinn’s body was immediately cremated, no minutes to spare. The insurance agents want Philip to investigate whether there was something fishy in this death and the policy.
Does Marlowe want to do this? His days of fistfights and gun-slinging are over. He relies on a silver-tipped cane—which hides a deadly Japanese blade—to limp around. He’s truly vulnerable physically, but also mentally nostalgic. “You have your books and your movies, your daydreams and your moments in the sun, but none of these can save you any more than irony can.” So, he’s talked out of retirement for one last case.
And the plot is mostly credible, in what is likely a Chandler-esque way. Sure, some bodies pile up and—okay, it is periodically larger than life. Could an elderly alcoholic really rough it this way and sustain this kind of stress? Probably not, but the cerebral and intellectual sovereignty of Marlowe sucked me in pretty quick, despite its slow start, and had me believing in his character and his gumshoe tactics. And, of course, there is a dame, isn’t there always a dame in a detective noir of the Marlowe variety? But, it isn’t like you may think. As Clint Eastwood once said, a man’s gotta know his limitations, and Marlowe knows his constraints.
The book isn’t a quick page-turner by any means, and it takes a while to get off the ground, but Osborne knows his settings, and two of the reasons I chose this book is his impeccable us of setting and atmosphere. And his tone is laconic but sympathetic. “You can be called to a last effort, a final heroic statement, because I doubt you call yourself to leave comforts and certainties for an open road. But the call is inside your own head. It’s a sad summons from the depths of your own wasted past. You could call it the imperative to go out with full-tilt trumpets and gunshots instead of the quietly desperate sound of a hospital ventilator.”
The plot itself didn’t win me over as much as Osborne’s writing. If you crave a fast-paced plot, this isn’t that novel—it does have twists and turns, and as Osborne wrote in his author’s note at the end, the narrative incarnates qualities of fairy tale and nightmare. He reckons with aging more than once, and in his poignant and wistful voice, reflects on his old age. “Count me as one of those who know that life is unbearable not because it’s tragedy but because it’s romance. Old age only makes it worse, because now the race against time has reached the hour of high noon.”
August 3, 2018
The NYTimes liked this for some reason, probably because the Times has a very poor grasp of popular culture. The premise is a late 70 year old Marlowe comes out of retirement in 1988 for one last tilt at the windmill. Not only is this not a passable homage to Raymond Chandler, it’s not even very good as a mystery. The problem is very poor writing - everything is ornate and overdescribed as well as suffused with a sense of world weariness that is leaden. It has nothing like chandler’s brisk irony and it’s hard to believe Osborne thinks he is inhabiting Marlowe and Chandler’s world. Like General Sternwood’s orchids it’s over ripe and corrupt. The case involves a disappearance and insurance fraud - with complications. If you care. You won’t.
October 10, 2018
Just the name Philip Marlowe straight away conjured images of Humphrey Bogart with a beautiful woman by his side for me, of course I had to age him in my mind as in this story he was in his 70's and eager to take on just one more case. So with Marlowe magic written all over the blurb and the story reading in my mind in the voice of Bogart, I was in for a one sitting session with a clear don't disturb warning written on my expression.
Marlowe was invited by two men representing an insurance company, to investigate a substantial claim made by a young widow, after her aging husband had drown and been subsequently cremated very quickly. Was the husband really dead or was it a scam? Now this is a very slow burn read where I must admit to having to back track a little to make sure that I hadn't missed anything. I hadn't. But as the story went on I did get more into the style of the author's writing. I began relax and enjoy the ride, the journey of getting there rather than just arriving.
There are quite a lot of characters that sort of wonder in and back out of the story so it was a matter of which ones to retain that were of any relevance. I did love the descriptions of the places that Marlowe went to as the author really brought them to life. I had to smile as Marlowe had been quite a ladies man in his time and he could still appreciate a pretty woman in this story but these days, it was by thought, growing old eventually gets to the Casanovas too. His mind though is still as sharp as ever. Marlowe has class, that he will never lose.
Chandler is a pretty hard act to follow. I felt that the essence of Marlowe was there but was also pleased that Osborne has put his own stamp on this him too.
Many thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for an e-copy of this book which I have reviewed honestly.
Marlowe was invited by two men representing an insurance company, to investigate a substantial claim made by a young widow, after her aging husband had drown and been subsequently cremated very quickly. Was the husband really dead or was it a scam? Now this is a very slow burn read where I must admit to having to back track a little to make sure that I hadn't missed anything. I hadn't. But as the story went on I did get more into the style of the author's writing. I began relax and enjoy the ride, the journey of getting there rather than just arriving.
There are quite a lot of characters that sort of wonder in and back out of the story so it was a matter of which ones to retain that were of any relevance. I did love the descriptions of the places that Marlowe went to as the author really brought them to life. I had to smile as Marlowe had been quite a ladies man in his time and he could still appreciate a pretty woman in this story but these days, it was by thought, growing old eventually gets to the Casanovas too. His mind though is still as sharp as ever. Marlowe has class, that he will never lose.
Chandler is a pretty hard act to follow. I felt that the essence of Marlowe was there but was also pleased that Osborne has put his own stamp on this him too.
Many thanks to the publisher and NetGalley for an e-copy of this book which I have reviewed honestly.
September 3, 2019
Lovingly true to Raymond Chandler in spirit, tone and wisecracking-but-wistful similes.
Osborne's been much lauded for this post-Chandler Philip Marlowe sequel, and rightly so. Osborne effortlessly adds age, deep weariness, and fragility to the hero's makeup while preserving the original Bogart flavors of caginess and stoically battered chivalry.
How much you enjoy the book depends on how much you liked the Marlowe mysteries in the first place.
The novel's ostensibly set in 1980s Mexico. But Marlowe's old-rose-colored gimlet-cocktail goggles keep him nostalgic for the 1950s version of the villages and landscape. Where are the cliff-divers of yesteryear who'd enthusiastically perform for tourists' mere pocket change?
Sometimes the period detail gets a little heavy-handed, and can make Marlowe sound hermetically sealed in the 1930s. Would a Marlowe who'd lived through the Brylcreem 50s (plus the Vitalis 60s) really bring up 20s-era Macassar oil? And would he really feel the urge to drop so very many Hemingway references? The 1980s details are sparse, limited to a couple of mentions of "the Reagan era" plus a bit of snark on the subject of women's shoulderpads. The decade feels randomly chosen and underserved.
The plot, on the other hand, is heavy on moody details like icy blue eyes and velvet Prince Albert slippers. The plot also doubles back on itself and doesn't make as much sense as it could. And that too is in keeping with Chandler's style. It's hard to believe Chandler wouldn't approve from first to last.
Osborne's Marlowe is still the guy who recognizes when the occasion calls for Japanese whiskey. Or a quick exit instead.
Osborne's been much lauded for this post-Chandler Philip Marlowe sequel, and rightly so. Osborne effortlessly adds age, deep weariness, and fragility to the hero's makeup while preserving the original Bogart flavors of caginess and stoically battered chivalry.
How much you enjoy the book depends on how much you liked the Marlowe mysteries in the first place.
The novel's ostensibly set in 1980s Mexico. But Marlowe's old-rose-colored gimlet-cocktail goggles keep him nostalgic for the 1950s version of the villages and landscape. Where are the cliff-divers of yesteryear who'd enthusiastically perform for tourists' mere pocket change?
Sometimes the period detail gets a little heavy-handed, and can make Marlowe sound hermetically sealed in the 1930s. Would a Marlowe who'd lived through the Brylcreem 50s (plus the Vitalis 60s) really bring up 20s-era Macassar oil? And would he really feel the urge to drop so very many Hemingway references? The 1980s details are sparse, limited to a couple of mentions of "the Reagan era" plus a bit of snark on the subject of women's shoulderpads. The decade feels randomly chosen and underserved.
The plot, on the other hand, is heavy on moody details like icy blue eyes and velvet Prince Albert slippers. The plot also doubles back on itself and doesn't make as much sense as it could. And that too is in keeping with Chandler's style. It's hard to believe Chandler wouldn't approve from first to last.
Osborne's Marlowe is still the guy who recognizes when the occasion calls for Japanese whiskey. Or a quick exit instead.
August 11, 2018
Two of my favorite writers have worked with Raymond Chandler’s material, John Banville and William Faulkner. And now the superb Lawrence Osborne throws his hat into the soup, portraying Marlowe as an old, crippled man with memories of better times. In a somewhat convoluted plot that ranges from El Centro to various Mexican locales, Osborne has the old fellow bumbling along, sardonically. I wish the Chandler trust would be happy releasing the old books. We just did not need Only To Sleep.
October 7, 2018
One of the limitations of the Goodreads star system is that it doesn't allow for nuance. This is an excellent novel that I admire immensely (five stars) yet it's one that I didn't personally much enjoy (two or three stars). Ideally I'd simply not give it a star rating at all, but that doesn't appear to be an option.
It's the late 1980s and Philip Marlowe is 72 years old. An insurance company calls him out of retirement to investigate the recent drowning death in Mexico of real estate magnate Donald Zinn, a client of theirs, a death that they regard as suspicious. For what he knows will be his One Last Case, Marlowe goes on a final, uncertainly treading quest in search of a man who may or may not be dead and whose beautiful wife or widow, Dolores, awakens in the detective memories of loves long lost . . .
I read John Banville's Marlowe novel, The Black-Eyed Blonde, a while ago, and rather enjoyed it; I read Robert B. Parker's "collaboration" with Chandler, Poodle Springs, a very long time back and recall little about it except a vague sense of disappointment; I haven't read Parker's solo Marlowe novel.
From the opening pages of Only to Sleep I was bowled over by how well Lawrence Osborne has caught the essence of Chandler's voice: the rolling periods, the sorrowfully eloquent aphorisms, the wonderful metaphors -- the whole gamut. After a few dozen pages the author, wisely I think, tones down the Chandlerisms a bit -- only a bit -- so that the prose becomes more straightforward. What aren't diluted are Marlowe's time-wearied reflections on life, morality, fate and destiny. If someone had passed this novel to me and told me it was a hitherto undiscovered Chandler manuscript, I'd have believed them (aside, of course, from the dates; Chandler died about three decades before the time in which the tale is set).
All this is wonderful. Only to Sleep is, so far as my experience goes, the best Marlowe continuation yet.
But.
But the novel never becomes a page-turner. For the obvious reason of Marlowe's age, there's not a huge amount by way of action scenes, although they're not entirely absent. That doesn't matter much in itself. But in parallel with this there's no tension to the tale, no elevation of suspense. The basic mystery is relatively soon solved, and thereafter we're more concerned with the vagaries of Marlowe's soul as, driven by his fascination for Dolores and more ethically flexible than he was in his younger days, he digs further into events. I was never bored by what I was reading, but at the same time I never became embraced by the tale to the point that the outside world disappeared.
In sum, this is a very fine book. If I learned it had been shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize, I'd nod approvingly. If I learned it had been nominated for an Edgar or a Dagger, I'd be less sure. It's a splendid achievement on Osborne's part and I may well look out more of his work, but I missed the experience of being spellbound.
It's the late 1980s and Philip Marlowe is 72 years old. An insurance company calls him out of retirement to investigate the recent drowning death in Mexico of real estate magnate Donald Zinn, a client of theirs, a death that they regard as suspicious. For what he knows will be his One Last Case, Marlowe goes on a final, uncertainly treading quest in search of a man who may or may not be dead and whose beautiful wife or widow, Dolores, awakens in the detective memories of loves long lost . . .
I read John Banville's Marlowe novel, The Black-Eyed Blonde, a while ago, and rather enjoyed it; I read Robert B. Parker's "collaboration" with Chandler, Poodle Springs, a very long time back and recall little about it except a vague sense of disappointment; I haven't read Parker's solo Marlowe novel.
From the opening pages of Only to Sleep I was bowled over by how well Lawrence Osborne has caught the essence of Chandler's voice: the rolling periods, the sorrowfully eloquent aphorisms, the wonderful metaphors -- the whole gamut. After a few dozen pages the author, wisely I think, tones down the Chandlerisms a bit -- only a bit -- so that the prose becomes more straightforward. What aren't diluted are Marlowe's time-wearied reflections on life, morality, fate and destiny. If someone had passed this novel to me and told me it was a hitherto undiscovered Chandler manuscript, I'd have believed them (aside, of course, from the dates; Chandler died about three decades before the time in which the tale is set).
All this is wonderful. Only to Sleep is, so far as my experience goes, the best Marlowe continuation yet.
But.
But the novel never becomes a page-turner. For the obvious reason of Marlowe's age, there's not a huge amount by way of action scenes, although they're not entirely absent. That doesn't matter much in itself. But in parallel with this there's no tension to the tale, no elevation of suspense. The basic mystery is relatively soon solved, and thereafter we're more concerned with the vagaries of Marlowe's soul as, driven by his fascination for Dolores and more ethically flexible than he was in his younger days, he digs further into events. I was never bored by what I was reading, but at the same time I never became embraced by the tale to the point that the outside world disappeared.
In sum, this is a very fine book. If I learned it had been shortlisted for the Man Booker Prize, I'd nod approvingly. If I learned it had been nominated for an Edgar or a Dagger, I'd be less sure. It's a splendid achievement on Osborne's part and I may well look out more of his work, but I missed the experience of being spellbound.
June 15, 2018
It is always a heady prospect for an author to step into the shoes of another acclaimed author, especially one such as the beloved Raymond Chandler. And to then write a story featuring none other than Phillip Marlowe, perhaps the greatest of hardboiled gumshoes. That, my friends, is tempting the fates. But Lawrence Osborne is certainly no fly-by-night author and in this novel, I think he does the character, (and by extension, Chandler himself), justice.
This novel is not about the Philip Marlow of 1940s Los Angeles, but rather a retired, 72-year old, slower-paced remnant who spends his time down Mexico way, drinking and idling away his time while observing the peculiarities of life. Reluctantly, he accepts a final case on behalf of an insurance company. It seems a young widow has claimed the insurance money after her older husband’s body has washed ashore on a Mexican beach. Marlowe, golden-tipped cane firmly in hand, proceeds to methodically try and figure out what has actually occurred, and verify the legitimacy of the claim.
I think Mr. Osborne captures the tone of the original Chandler stories very well. There is that same sort of dreamy plot, without everything explicitly stated. There really isn’t all that much action throughout the novel, but the tension mounts just the same. Marlowe trails the persons of interest from one town to another, one hotel to the next, and all the while, drinking and interacting with the locals as much as those he is investigating. The subtle nature of the prose is striking nonetheless as the plot unfolds.
Many readers will be skeptical of another Marlowe novel, not written by Chandler but I think this one will surprise them. And for those who have never read a Raymond Chandler story, it doesn’t matter. This is a solid, well-written novel that stands on its own regardless.
Thanks to the publisher, Hogarth, for the opportunity to read an Advanced Reader's Copy of this novel
This novel is not about the Philip Marlow of 1940s Los Angeles, but rather a retired, 72-year old, slower-paced remnant who spends his time down Mexico way, drinking and idling away his time while observing the peculiarities of life. Reluctantly, he accepts a final case on behalf of an insurance company. It seems a young widow has claimed the insurance money after her older husband’s body has washed ashore on a Mexican beach. Marlowe, golden-tipped cane firmly in hand, proceeds to methodically try and figure out what has actually occurred, and verify the legitimacy of the claim.
I think Mr. Osborne captures the tone of the original Chandler stories very well. There is that same sort of dreamy plot, without everything explicitly stated. There really isn’t all that much action throughout the novel, but the tension mounts just the same. Marlowe trails the persons of interest from one town to another, one hotel to the next, and all the while, drinking and interacting with the locals as much as those he is investigating. The subtle nature of the prose is striking nonetheless as the plot unfolds.
Many readers will be skeptical of another Marlowe novel, not written by Chandler but I think this one will surprise them. And for those who have never read a Raymond Chandler story, it doesn’t matter. This is a solid, well-written novel that stands on its own regardless.
Thanks to the publisher, Hogarth, for the opportunity to read an Advanced Reader's Copy of this novel
July 9, 2018
For some reason I just couldn’t get into this novel. I love Phillip Marlow and was looking forward to reading this novel, but when you feel like you are reading a book just to finish it, you shouldn’t punish yourself by making yourself stick with it.
It was well written, I don’t know if it was setting or what that made this a difficult read for me.
It was well written, I don’t know if it was setting or what that made this a difficult read for me.
January 2, 2023
Tremenda decepción. Con las ganas que tenía de leer algo nuevo de ese enorme personaje de ficción que es Philip Marlowe, llevaba años sin material cuando oí que a L. Osborne le pidieron que sacara una nueva entrega sobre ese mítico detective que creó R. Chadler y me ilusioné un poco.
No me ha gustado casi nada del libro. Ese detective ya añoso medio alcohólico no es ni mucho el personaje que creó Chadler. La historia tremendamente rebuscada. Aún a pesar de que las historias de Marlowe eran por momentos poco reales, pero tenían como una magia de ese personaje un tanto quijotesco que parecía ir buscando siempre el camino más difícil, pero en Solo para soñar, no se acaba de entender nunca los mil requiebros y persecución sin objeto del protagonista. El final horrible e increíble.
No me han gustado los trucos y atajos que coge el autor cuando le interesa para avanzar con la historia. En la página 95 estuve a punto de cerrar el libro tras el primero de esos trucos baratos que emplean los malos autores.
Leí una vez a Carlos Zanón decir en una entrevista, cuando le preguntaron sobre la novela que publicó en que de nuevo daba vida al mítico Pepe Carvalho de M. Vázquez Montalbán, que una aventura así es como si un amigo con dinero te presta un Ferrari para que des una vuelta, puedes devolverle el coche intacto, o bien estrellarlo antes de tomar la primera curva, pues bien Lawrence Osborne ha dejado el Ferrari para el desguace.
No me ha gustado casi nada del libro. Ese detective ya añoso medio alcohólico no es ni mucho el personaje que creó Chadler. La historia tremendamente rebuscada. Aún a pesar de que las historias de Marlowe eran por momentos poco reales, pero tenían como una magia de ese personaje un tanto quijotesco que parecía ir buscando siempre el camino más difícil, pero en Solo para soñar, no se acaba de entender nunca los mil requiebros y persecución sin objeto del protagonista. El final horrible e increíble.
No me han gustado los trucos y atajos que coge el autor cuando le interesa para avanzar con la historia. En la página 95 estuve a punto de cerrar el libro tras el primero de esos trucos baratos que emplean los malos autores.
Leí una vez a Carlos Zanón decir en una entrevista, cuando le preguntaron sobre la novela que publicó en que de nuevo daba vida al mítico Pepe Carvalho de M. Vázquez Montalbán, que una aventura así es como si un amigo con dinero te presta un Ferrari para que des una vuelta, puedes devolverle el coche intacto, o bien estrellarlo antes de tomar la primera curva, pues bien Lawrence Osborne ha dejado el Ferrari para el desguace.
June 14, 2018
This Raymond Chandler pastiche features the aging Philip Marlowe, in his 70s, on his last, we assume, investigation. It is certainly more Lawrence Osborne than Raymond Chandler; it reads in part like a travelogue, with attention to the details of place and custom. The good news is, as Osborne is one of our greatest living writers, this is a spellbinding tale of detours on the last highway. I chose to not think of the central character as Marlowe but as a man sort of my age who fears that the joys of life have passed him by. He doesn't want love and sex, but he'd like to think that the possibility is still there. He doesn't need to be at the center of the action, but he needs to know that action is nearby. He is a knight errant whose nobility no longer has the luster it once did. In short, this is a melancholy tale, although not without humor. The aged Marlowe still has his detective chops, but does he still have his values? The exotic Mexican setting and the amount of drinks consumed are intoxicating. If this is Marlowe's last ride, at least it is an exciting one.
June 23, 2018
Thanks to First to Read for the advance copy.
Philip Marlowe in his dotage is not a pretty picture. Then again, he's still snooping about in a world that isn't so pretty itself. That he maintains any sly wit is impressive. However, without his penchant for, and selfless skill at, falling for the femme fatale, there would be no story. He maintains that dream-like progression through the events of the case, a clue here and there pushing the narrative forward despite Marlowe's every effort to hold still and revel unimpressed in his own memories. The ending was foretold and spare and sad, satisfying only for its expected disappointment, or perhaps disappointing for its expected satisfaction. In that, this is indeed a good addition to the Marlowe legend.
Philip Marlowe in his dotage is not a pretty picture. Then again, he's still snooping about in a world that isn't so pretty itself. That he maintains any sly wit is impressive. However, without his penchant for, and selfless skill at, falling for the femme fatale, there would be no story. He maintains that dream-like progression through the events of the case, a clue here and there pushing the narrative forward despite Marlowe's every effort to hold still and revel unimpressed in his own memories. The ending was foretold and spare and sad, satisfying only for its expected disappointment, or perhaps disappointing for its expected satisfaction. In that, this is indeed a good addition to the Marlowe legend.
January 21, 2024
this guy knows to write. his writing is beautiful. really. it is Philip Marlowe aged, tired, bored but still sharp and romantic so there is more thoughts than action, travel and places more than people, driniking than gun shots. sometimes you wantvto jump ahead when it start to be to slow but he keeps you tight. the plot is not 10 only ok. but still fun.
September 5, 2018
“I just wanted one last outing. Every man does. One last play at the tables - it’s a common wish.”
I approached this, Lawrence Osborne’s, Chandler Estate-authorised, Philip Marlowe novel, with some trepidation and a little scepticism. Raymond Chandler is my favourite writer and ‘The Little Sister’ the first ‘crime’ novel I remember reading. But Osborne’s decision to write about a 72-year old Marlowe was intriguing and, to some extent, prevents the novel from becoming pastiche, keeps it from being just an inferior continuation of what Chandler did so well. In fact, it adds another dimension to the character.
It is 1988. Philip Marlowe is retired, living physically in Mexico and mentally in the past, detesting old age. So, when an insurance company approaches him about a suspected fraud, he is quick to accept the challenge despite the reservations of others.
‘“You have a good life, Philip. You’re too old to knock people out. Stay down there and go fishing. They can’t be offering you that much. Or maybe you’re just bored.”
“There’s that. I never thought retirement would be so sad.”’
A young widow has been awarded a huge benefit on the death of her much older husband whose rapid cremation following his drowning off the Mexican coast has raised the insurers’ suspicions. As Marlowe begins to investigate we sense that his aim is not really to find answers but to recapture the thrill of past cases. Osborne’s take on Marlowe is not Chandler - it really couldn’t be - but he does echo Chandler’s language without trying to compete and delivers a thoroughly enjoyable, if very sad, novel. Sad because Marlowe cannot recapture the life he had thirty, forty years ago. He finds himself falling for the widow but knows it will not be reciprocated. He drinks and suffers for it where before he would shrug it off. He continues to try to live the life of a tough guy despite knowing that it might kill him.
‘Years of this kind of life wears you down and makes you porous. You die off bit by bit. the stale grit of the road gets into your unconscious, a small voice arises and says to you, “This is the last time, there won’t be any more awakenings and thank god for that, eh?”’
I really liked this book despite my initial misgivings. Osborne makes great use of the Mexican locations he obviously knows well. He finds the dreamlike, slightly unreal quality that Chandler was so good at. But the knight errant is jaded, filled with regret, and chivalry is not so easy to maintain. If this is the end of Philip Marlowe, and it probably should be, it is a fitting end.
‘My dreams were of ships in gales, decks swept by relentless waves, and the threat of being lost at sea. Waters rushed past me and the ship heaved and sank; the bottom of the ocean clamoured with falling coins, glasses and sextants, and cocktail shakers. And there I drifted down among them until I came to rest upon a vast bed of silver and sand and fell asleep like a capsized bosun filled with water and salt.’
I approached this, Lawrence Osborne’s, Chandler Estate-authorised, Philip Marlowe novel, with some trepidation and a little scepticism. Raymond Chandler is my favourite writer and ‘The Little Sister’ the first ‘crime’ novel I remember reading. But Osborne’s decision to write about a 72-year old Marlowe was intriguing and, to some extent, prevents the novel from becoming pastiche, keeps it from being just an inferior continuation of what Chandler did so well. In fact, it adds another dimension to the character.
It is 1988. Philip Marlowe is retired, living physically in Mexico and mentally in the past, detesting old age. So, when an insurance company approaches him about a suspected fraud, he is quick to accept the challenge despite the reservations of others.
‘“You have a good life, Philip. You’re too old to knock people out. Stay down there and go fishing. They can’t be offering you that much. Or maybe you’re just bored.”
“There’s that. I never thought retirement would be so sad.”’
A young widow has been awarded a huge benefit on the death of her much older husband whose rapid cremation following his drowning off the Mexican coast has raised the insurers’ suspicions. As Marlowe begins to investigate we sense that his aim is not really to find answers but to recapture the thrill of past cases. Osborne’s take on Marlowe is not Chandler - it really couldn’t be - but he does echo Chandler’s language without trying to compete and delivers a thoroughly enjoyable, if very sad, novel. Sad because Marlowe cannot recapture the life he had thirty, forty years ago. He finds himself falling for the widow but knows it will not be reciprocated. He drinks and suffers for it where before he would shrug it off. He continues to try to live the life of a tough guy despite knowing that it might kill him.
‘Years of this kind of life wears you down and makes you porous. You die off bit by bit. the stale grit of the road gets into your unconscious, a small voice arises and says to you, “This is the last time, there won’t be any more awakenings and thank god for that, eh?”’
I really liked this book despite my initial misgivings. Osborne makes great use of the Mexican locations he obviously knows well. He finds the dreamlike, slightly unreal quality that Chandler was so good at. But the knight errant is jaded, filled with regret, and chivalry is not so easy to maintain. If this is the end of Philip Marlowe, and it probably should be, it is a fitting end.
‘My dreams were of ships in gales, decks swept by relentless waves, and the threat of being lost at sea. Waters rushed past me and the ship heaved and sank; the bottom of the ocean clamoured with falling coins, glasses and sextants, and cocktail shakers. And there I drifted down among them until I came to rest upon a vast bed of silver and sand and fell asleep like a capsized bosun filled with water and salt.’
October 22, 2018
Only resemblance to Chandler/Marlowe is the protagonist's quest to pursue the malefactor to the end and fulfill his own sense of right and wrong. Marlowe is 72 and the first 50 pages or so, Osborne bludgeons the reader with all that is wrong with him, physically and spiritually. A boost for today's agony revelers, but the character more resembles someone who is 90 and that is probably insulting many 90 year old folks. Guess I don't know what a pastiche is. Stylistically resembles a verbose and neutered Hemingway. Loads of food and locale descriptions. When Marlowe (he rarely mentions his own name, even when it would be appropriate to do so) speaks he usually mutters something banal or obscure, these statements supposedly carrying a heavier meaning, I guess. Even if Marlowe is supposed to be a near total burnout, it is difficult to imagine that his story could not have been enlivened by a descriptive prose that would at least recall a faint echo of Chandler's skill. Intentional or not, this book seems an attempt to apply an eraser to both Chandler and Marlowe. Put them to sleep through literary euthanasia as it were . Very trendy, but not a good read and certainly not of interest to fans; anyone familiar with the Chandler novels is not going to believe that this Marlowe is a descendent of the original. Those who wish to see him (and his fans) punished for being what he was in his own time may be pleased, but hopefully virtue signaling crime fiction criticism will eventually pass and come to be regarded for what it is - a product of its times. Banville/Black gave us the PC Marlowe with The Black-Eyed Blonde and now we have Marlowe the mummy.
December 7, 2018
Interesting and as well written as it is, one has to ask why? Osborne is a fine writer with an imagination capable of characters all his own. Iconic characters from the literary past shouldn't be subjected to resurrection for filthy lucre.
July 26, 2022
I read this directly after Brad Thor’s Rising Tiger, a novel I felt was filled with flabby writing. Osbourne can definitely write and he does a great job of creating a pastiche of Raymond Chandler, right down to the bloated plots that meander enough to make a reader dizzy.
My first question is this: Why would a good writer even want to write another Raymond Chandler novel? Wouldn’t you rather create your own detective instead of conjuring Chandler’s from the dead?
He paints a great portrait of Mexico in the early 1980s but the story just seems to ramble from one place to another with barely a memorable event occurring in the entire novel.
I liked this enough to read another of Osbourne's books.
My first question is this: Why would a good writer even want to write another Raymond Chandler novel? Wouldn’t you rather create your own detective instead of conjuring Chandler’s from the dead?
He paints a great portrait of Mexico in the early 1980s but the story just seems to ramble from one place to another with barely a memorable event occurring in the entire novel.
I liked this enough to read another of Osbourne's books.
June 29, 2019
Two guys walk into a bar. “They were dressed like undertakers and had sauntered down from the main road above the hotel, finding me seated alone with my pitcher of sangria and my silver-tipped cane as if they had known I would be there accompanied within sight of my home on the Baja cliffs.”
A moment later:
“They’d heard I was retired, but a man they trusted in la Jolla had said I was the best that money could buy. That was, of course, the best joke of the afternoon. They offered to buy me an early dinner and bared the teeth of friendly hyenas who have done their killing for the day.”
We’re on page three, but already we’ve got that wry, dry, jaded, fatalistic and world-weary view that is often imitated, rarely duplicated.
Well, imitated is the point. Chandleresque indeed.
Only to Sleep is “A Philip Marlowe Novel,” an officially sanctioned pastiche. Mimicking any writer would be a challenge, but slipping into Raymond Chandler’s stylistic prose seems especially daunting. It’s not just the storytelling style, however, it’s Marlowe’s peculiar inner landscape and what Osborne, in his notes, calls Chandler’s “bewildering dreamlike plots” that are both “fairy tale and nightmare.”
Only to Sleep, however, is grounded in plot. William Faulkner, one of the screenwriters for the film version of The Big Sleep, and who was unable to follow the story, would have no problem here. Good.
The two insurance men who walk into the bar want Marlowe to see if a guy who died under mysterious circumstances—a possible swimming accident, in Mexico—is really dead. There’s a $2 million payout at stake. Donald Zinn and his wife Delores had made some bad real estate investments and wouldn’t $2 million come in handy? Sure, this is the flashpoint for a thousand crime fiction tales before it, but it’s Marlowe. We’re bound to learn something.
Of course Delores is a beguiling dame. Of course the body on the beach isn’t Zinn. Of course Marlowe will dance, literally and figuratively, with Delores. The pace is medium-slow. It’s moody. Marlowe is moving the story along, but also able to step back and look at the big picture, too, even in the moment.
“First I saw the heliconia of his absurd shirt, then a tanned arm laid across the bar close to me, and a smell of something like sandalwood, only very faint, competed with the Cohiba Esplendido. How did I know it was connected to my quarry, I wonder, even before I had half-turned and glanced up at his face—handsome, you might say, despite all the distressing events of his sixty-year life? He had eyes as blue as a husky’s and his face had only just begun to succumb to gravity.”
(Heliconia? Word-of-the-book right there.)
Quarry. Puzzle. Pursuit. Cross. Drink. Double-cross. Drink again. Parties, masks, parades. New town, new hotel, new bar. Dreams, nightmares, and ghosts. Marlowe is dogged, that we know.
“There are times to run and there are times to pursue. Every animal knows the difference and when the moment comes to do one or the other. I found myself alone on the streets with the caped troubadours and their mandolins. Wandering, wandering, and mumbling the words camino, camino. The young looked at me the way you would a piece of cardboard tossed down a street on the wind. Wreckage with eyes and a pulse.”
Only to Sleep might make you want to revisit some Chandler. It might make you want to read some Lawrence Osborne even more.
A moment later:
“They’d heard I was retired, but a man they trusted in la Jolla had said I was the best that money could buy. That was, of course, the best joke of the afternoon. They offered to buy me an early dinner and bared the teeth of friendly hyenas who have done their killing for the day.”
We’re on page three, but already we’ve got that wry, dry, jaded, fatalistic and world-weary view that is often imitated, rarely duplicated.
Well, imitated is the point. Chandleresque indeed.
Only to Sleep is “A Philip Marlowe Novel,” an officially sanctioned pastiche. Mimicking any writer would be a challenge, but slipping into Raymond Chandler’s stylistic prose seems especially daunting. It’s not just the storytelling style, however, it’s Marlowe’s peculiar inner landscape and what Osborne, in his notes, calls Chandler’s “bewildering dreamlike plots” that are both “fairy tale and nightmare.”
Only to Sleep, however, is grounded in plot. William Faulkner, one of the screenwriters for the film version of The Big Sleep, and who was unable to follow the story, would have no problem here. Good.
The two insurance men who walk into the bar want Marlowe to see if a guy who died under mysterious circumstances—a possible swimming accident, in Mexico—is really dead. There’s a $2 million payout at stake. Donald Zinn and his wife Delores had made some bad real estate investments and wouldn’t $2 million come in handy? Sure, this is the flashpoint for a thousand crime fiction tales before it, but it’s Marlowe. We’re bound to learn something.
Of course Delores is a beguiling dame. Of course the body on the beach isn’t Zinn. Of course Marlowe will dance, literally and figuratively, with Delores. The pace is medium-slow. It’s moody. Marlowe is moving the story along, but also able to step back and look at the big picture, too, even in the moment.
“First I saw the heliconia of his absurd shirt, then a tanned arm laid across the bar close to me, and a smell of something like sandalwood, only very faint, competed with the Cohiba Esplendido. How did I know it was connected to my quarry, I wonder, even before I had half-turned and glanced up at his face—handsome, you might say, despite all the distressing events of his sixty-year life? He had eyes as blue as a husky’s and his face had only just begun to succumb to gravity.”
(Heliconia? Word-of-the-book right there.)
Quarry. Puzzle. Pursuit. Cross. Drink. Double-cross. Drink again. Parties, masks, parades. New town, new hotel, new bar. Dreams, nightmares, and ghosts. Marlowe is dogged, that we know.
“There are times to run and there are times to pursue. Every animal knows the difference and when the moment comes to do one or the other. I found myself alone on the streets with the caped troubadours and their mandolins. Wandering, wandering, and mumbling the words camino, camino. The young looked at me the way you would a piece of cardboard tossed down a street on the wind. Wreckage with eyes and a pulse.”
Only to Sleep might make you want to revisit some Chandler. It might make you want to read some Lawrence Osborne even more.
July 5, 2018
Thanks to the publisher, Hogarth, for providing a free ARC.
If you’re familiar with Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe series, you know the laconic, melancholic style and the sun-blasted noir-ish atmosphere. Now imagine that Marlowe is retired and living in Mexico, on the Baja coast. He’s getting to be an old man, 72 with some creaky bones and occasional tremors, and he’s frequently sleepless or, when he does sleep, bothered by strange dreams.
Worst of all, Marlowe is a little low on cash and a bit bored. It’s a good time for the agents of Pacific Mutual Insurance to come calling from San Diego, offering a nice fee for a trace job. Their insured, Donald Zinn, supposedly drowned while drunkenly swimming out to a yacht. But they’re not convinced that the quickly-cremated corpse really was Zinn. If they pay the big insurance amount to Zinn’s widow, Dolores, will they really be paying Zinn himself for a con job? That’s what they hire Marlowe to find out.
Marlowe’s investigation takes him from high-end resorts to fishing villages to dusty interior towns, pursuing leads with an aged man’s slow-motion zeal that becomes a near obsession. Maybe this will be his last job before the big sleep, and if it is, some days that feels OK with him.
It’s a good story, and the style feels decently close to Chandler’s blend of smart-mouthed moral ambiguity and existential despair. Worth reading if you’re a hard-boiled novel fan, even if it does feel a little off-kilter to have Philip Marlowe doing his thing in 1988.
If you’re familiar with Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe series, you know the laconic, melancholic style and the sun-blasted noir-ish atmosphere. Now imagine that Marlowe is retired and living in Mexico, on the Baja coast. He’s getting to be an old man, 72 with some creaky bones and occasional tremors, and he’s frequently sleepless or, when he does sleep, bothered by strange dreams.
Worst of all, Marlowe is a little low on cash and a bit bored. It’s a good time for the agents of Pacific Mutual Insurance to come calling from San Diego, offering a nice fee for a trace job. Their insured, Donald Zinn, supposedly drowned while drunkenly swimming out to a yacht. But they’re not convinced that the quickly-cremated corpse really was Zinn. If they pay the big insurance amount to Zinn’s widow, Dolores, will they really be paying Zinn himself for a con job? That’s what they hire Marlowe to find out.
Marlowe’s investigation takes him from high-end resorts to fishing villages to dusty interior towns, pursuing leads with an aged man’s slow-motion zeal that becomes a near obsession. Maybe this will be his last job before the big sleep, and if it is, some days that feels OK with him.
It’s a good story, and the style feels decently close to Chandler’s blend of smart-mouthed moral ambiguity and existential despair. Worth reading if you’re a hard-boiled novel fan, even if it does feel a little off-kilter to have Philip Marlowe doing his thing in 1988.
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